


Gif 1: Water Fight

by Mildly_Maddy



Series: The Secrets You've Seen [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (although louis is completely mistaken about liam's actual kink), Friends to Lovers, Kink Exploration, M/M, OTRA tour, Smut, literal water kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Maddy/pseuds/Mildly_Maddy
Summary: The firm weight pressing against his hip when Liam hugs him, drenched and breathless with laughter, is unmistakable. Even through the haze of stage-high, the blaze of the spotlights and the deafening screams of the crowd, Louis still instantly knows that it’s Liam’s cock he can feel through two layers of denim, like an electrical current zapping to his brain and turning the light on.
Or: what happens when Louis realizes Liam likes their water fights quite a lot more than he expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I seem to have started a series of sorts, because there are so many gifs of the boys that are begging for stories to be spun around them.
> 
> This fic is obviously inspired by this gif (courtesy of the lovely [umthatsliam](http://umthatsliam.tumblr.com/post/127848191511/milwaukee-25-aug)), and the many others that were gifted to us during those blessed OTRA days. 
> 
>   
>   
> 

The firm weight pressing against his hip when Liam hugs him, drenched and breathless with laughter, is unmistakable. Even through the haze of stage-high, the blaze of the spotlights and the deafening screams of the crowd, Louis still instantly knows that it’s Liam’s cock he can feel through two layers of denim, like an electrical current zapping to his brain and turning the light on.

They stumble off stage like that, Liam clinging to him like a very affectionate bear, both of them sticky with gatorade, and Louis doesn’t even think before he turns to Liam, lips curling up into a smirk as he says, “Is it a water gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

It’s the kind of jab that usually has Liam blushing, as if he himself would never say such things, or awkwardly shoving Louis, trying to one-up him with a joke of his own. Either way it always gets his eyes to crinkle in that way of theirs, which is highly satisfying.

This time, however, Liam steps away from Louis as if burnt, lips closed in a tight line like he’s biting back words. He takes another step back when Louis dumbly reaches out for him, then turns on his heels, and suddenly Louis’s alone in the crowd of technicians and roadies, feeling unsettled and inexplicably guilty.

By the time Louis and the others join him into the back of the car thirty minutes later, Liam seems to be his normal self again, patting the seat next to him with a grin and wrapping an easy arm around Louis’s shoulders. He doesn’t make small talk, however, staring out the car window with dull eyes, ignoring the flutter of conversation around him. 

Louis tries not to let it get to him, but Liam’s silence seems to only make him more acutely aware of every spot where their bodies touch, from Liam’s fingertips pressed against the naked skin of Louis’s upper arm to their jean-clad knees bumping together with every bend of the road. By the time they make it to the hotel he’s unnerved enough that he doesn’t pester Liam like he’d intended to, retreating instead to his bedroom to engage in mindless channel surfing while he mulls the events of the evening over.

Louis pays more attention to Liam’s reactions from then on, using every concert as an opportunity to repeat what happened that night, in the hopes it’ll help him understand. He doesn’t get a chance to test his theory out, though, because Liam dances away from him every time he tries to shuffle closer, dodging Louis’s quick hands whenever they stray too close to his crotch.

At least Liam doesn’t avoid the water fights, which gives Louis ample opportunity to stare at him, blinking the water from his eyes as he tries to see if there’s any change in Liam’s expression, in the curve of his smile or the crinkle of his eyes. And when that fails, he browses through Twitter, hoping fan videos may show him something he’s missed.

But he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Liam doesn’t look any different when Louis douses him in water than he does when Louis hits him in the nads, or tweaks his nipples, or takes selfies with him.

Louis knows he didn’t imagine it. Liam _was_ hard that night, and the fact that he didn’t want Louis to know it means it wasn’t just some random hard-on brought on by adrenalin. The fact that he doesn’t hug Louis anymore after water fights also shows there’s something going on.

It’s driving Louis _crazy_.

He waits until one of the last bus nights to make his move, unceremoniously closing the bus door in Harry and Niall’s faces to make it clear they should find accommodations elsewhere with the rest of the crew. Striding forward with the confidence of a man on a mission, he grabs three bottles of water on his way to the back lounge, where he finds Liam sitting on one end of the semi-circular couch, idly switching channels. Liam’s eyes follow Louis’s movements as he props the bottles against the couch’s back, making sure they won’t tip over.

“Thirsty?” Liam asks, his eyes going back to the TV screen.

“Nah, those are for you,” Louis says, plopping down next to him, the bottles on his left.

“I’m not particularly thirsty…” Liam trails off when Louis takes one of the bottles and opens it, dropping the cap to the carpeted floor of the bus.

“Oh, it’s not to drink,” Louis says, hoping his voice isn’t shaking with nerves as he turns towards Liam, folding one knee on the couch between them, and gently tips the bottle over Liam’s head, letting just a trickle hit his hair before he rights it up.

Liam’s eyes go wide. He reaches up to brush the water from his hair, huffing, but Louis can see his ears going pink, which means the color will soon spread to his cheeks, down his neck. “Louis,” Liam says, sounding not so much annoyed as strained.

“Liam.” Louis tips the bottle down again, dribbling some more water onto Liam’s head and watching as some of it slides down to the back of his neck, soaked up by the collar of his t-shirt.

It could be just a trick of the light, but Louis would be ready to swear Liam’s pupils widen. He pours a third of the water on Liam’s head in one swift movement, just enough to show Liam he’s serious, and is rewarded with a shriek.

“Louis! You can’t… You’ll ruin the couch!” 

Liam tries to get up, but Louis climbs in his lap, still holding the bottle aloft. The corner of Liam’s lips are curling up in an incredulous smile and it’s enough to tell Louis he’s on the right path. His heart is beating really hard, but he ignores it for now, focused on getting to the bottom of Liam’s fascination with getting soaked.

“Nobody gives a shit about the couch, Liam,” he says, gently tipping the bottle down. Water splashes on Liam’s hair, trickles down from his wet fringe, gets caught in his eyebrows before sliding down his cheeks down to his chin, trembling there for a breath before dripping down to his chest, slowly soaking a wet patch in his t-shirt. Louis goes slow, nothing to do with the downpour when they’re on stage. And this time, this time he sees the changes. The way Liam’s eyes get darker, the way his lips part in a soundless gasp and his hands fly to Louis’s hips, fingers hooking in Louis’s belt hoops.

“You like this, don't you?” Louis asks softly, eyes roaming Liam's face, from his wet eyelashes to the droplets of water caught in his stubble.

“Lou, don’t… don't-”

“I'm not taking the piss. I'm just trying to understand.”

Liam is almost vibrating against him and Louis hasn’t the faintest idea why. It’s fascinating, and Louis’s honest enough to admit to himself that it’s also arousing, knowing what power he’s got over Liam, knowing that Liam could easily shove him off but is letting him do this.

He doesn’t realize he’s loosening his grip on the bottle, lost in his thoughts, until it capsizes over Liam’s head, drenching the front of Liam’s shirt in a split second.

Liam gasps, his fingers sliding up from Louis’s jeans, slipping under Louis’s tank top to get at skin, and it’s Louis’s turn to shiver, watching with interest as his own forearms break into goosebumps.

Dropping the empty bottle behind the couch, Louis reaches for the second one and uncaps it without looking, his eyes fixed on Liam’s face. Liam’s own eyes dart down, following Louis’s hand like they would a wild animal.

Louis waits for a beat, then moves the bottle to the back of Liam’s neck, keeping eye contact as he tips it down. He can feel Liam's thighs tensing up, feel his fingers tightening around his hips in anticipation then relaxing as the cold water hits his neck, seeping through his t-shirt, the overflow following the grooves of the leather to pool around Liam's arse, soaking up the back of his jeans and the knees of Louis’s sweatpants. 

It should probably be uncomfortable, but the sensation of water seeping through his clothes doesn’t register next to the touch of Liam’s fingertips on his naked skin, going up and down in minute motions as if Liam isn’t even aware he’s doing it; Louis can feel each one of them like a hot iron branding him.

There isn't an inch of Liam's upper body left to drench, and Louis isn’t sure where to go from there, only sure of the fact he does not want to stop. He dimly remembers that he’s doing this for experimental purposes, for science, but Liam keeps staring at his lips when he’s not glancing down at his hands and Louis finds himself wanting things he’s never thought about before, his cock well on its way to hard, quicker on the uptake than his brain.

He grabs the last bottle and uncaps it in a daze, pouring the entire contents over Liam’s head in one go, desperate for some kind of release. He watches as Liam blinks through the downpour, lips parted in a silent gasp as he tugs Louis closer on his lap, close enough that Louis can suddenly feel the bulge of Liam’s own erection pressing into the crease of his thigh.

“Lou…” Liam says, sounding lost, and Louis lets the bottle drop to the floor as he bends down to kiss the water from Liam’s upper lip. Liam’s lips close around his for a second, then fall open once more, like an invitation that Louis is all too happy to accept, tongue darting out to take a lick at Liam's lip before he presses a kiss to it, then another, closing his eyes when Liam kisses back. It's tentative at first, Louis getting used to the feeling of stubble prickling the sensitive skin of his lips every so often, one hand cupping Liam's jaw, thumb stroking his beard in time with his kisses.

Louis’s heart is beating hard enough to make him dizzy, the same way it does when he’s at the top of a particularly nasty rollercoaster, both excited and terrified about the drop that’s to follow. Liam is gasping against his mouth, clearly just as overwhelmed, and when Liam’s tongue teases at Louis’s tongue, luring him to deepen the kiss, Louis is happy to take the plunge.

He chokes on a moan when Liam straight away sucks on his tongue as if his life is depending on it, Liam’s big hands splaying on Louis’s lower back, gently pressing him closer. There is, however, nothing tentative in the way the same hands slide down to Louis’s arse, the wetness from Liam’s jeans slowly seeping into the cotton of Louis’s sweatpants as Liam minutely grinds up against him. When he lets go of Louis’s tongue it’s only to sprinkle kisses against Louis’s neck, groaning low against his skin when Louis rakes his fingers in Liam’s wet hair, keeping his face pressed to his neck, angling it to give Liam more skin to kiss.

When Louis finally opens his eyes, it’s to find himself staring back, his reflection a pale ghost in the bus’s dark windows, the highway lights flashing by every few seconds and turning the windows into panels of glittering light - it must be raining, which feels oddly appropriate.

Seeing himself sitting in Liam’s lap makes everything realer, as if the visual confirmation is more important than the sensory overload Louis finds himself victim to, and Louis keeps his eyes fixed on the window as he grabs a handful of Liam’s hair and tugs, forcing Liam’s head back so he can kiss him again, hard and dirty.

He only wrenches his gaze from his reflection when Liam breathes out his name, letting his eyelids fall shut as he puts all his focus into their kiss. Liam’s hands are tugging at Louis’s t-shirt, fingernails scraping against his back as he tries to wrench the fabric off him, and Louis eventually breaks the kiss, staring at Liam with hooded eyes as he raises his arms above his head, letting Liam pull his shirt off. 

It’s such a small thing, a trivial piece of clothing that Liam has seen him without more times than Louis can count, and yet, in that moment, sitting in Liam’s lap with his shirt off, Liam’s palms coming back to rest against the naked skin of his lower back, strong and warm, Louis can hardly remember how to breathe.

He reaches out with slightly trembling fingers to grab a hold of Liam’s own t-shirt, but Liam flinches away, shaking his head no.

“No?” Louis asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Liam’s never been shy, has got nothing to be shy about, and he’s the one who started the unclothing so surely he’s okay with it.

“No,” Liam mumbles against Louis’s lips before kissing him again, hands pushing against Louis’s back so his front is pressed against Liam’s t-shirt. The wetness makes Louis shiver, and the shiver in turn makes Liam moan, burying one hand in Louis’s hair as he deepens the kiss, his hips pushing up against Louis’s, the fat line of his cock against Louis’s own robbing Louis of what little breath he had left.

Then suddenly the world shifts, and Louis can only cling to Liam’s back for dear life as he finds himself tipping backwards, Liam surging up on his feet like Louis weighs nothing, hands firm under Louis’s arse, taking one stumbling step forward to dump Louis on the opposite end of the couch before falling on top of him, eyes fierce.

That part of the couch has remained unscathed by the water, but Liam is a wet weight on top of Louis, the soaked flies of his jeans rubbing almost uncomfortably against his crotch as Liam starts properly grinding down against him, looking as desperate to make Louis feel his arousal as he looked desperate to keep it from him before.

Louis makes to grab at Liam's shirt again, touch-starved, but Liam catches his wrists in mid-air and pins them over Louis’s head with only one hand, kissing him almost viciously - and alright, Liam taking control is nice, too, really “Ni-aah!-ice,” Louis gasps out loud when Liam lets go of his mouth and bends down to bite at his nipple, his wet hair soothing the sore nub as he presses a line of kisses down to Louis's stomach, taking Louis's wrists with him so Louis has no choice but to keep his arms awkwardly bent over his chest as Liam slides his free hand to Louis's crotch, palming him without a hint of hesitation.

“It's gotten you just as hard as it got me,” Liam says, and while his voice is as low and deep as Louis's ever heard it, there's also a slight tinge of wonderment to it, enough to make Louis arch up, desperate for more.

“F’course it has, you donut,” he says, squirming under Liam's hand, trying to get some friction on his cock. “Why the fuck d'you think I did this in the first place?”

It's technically a lie, because Louis hadn't at all thought it through, intent only on figuring Liam's reaction out, but it makes Liam's eyes crinkle with joy and in the five years they've known each other the sight hasn't stopped making Louis's heart swoop happily in his chest.

Liam rubs his hand down the length of Louis’s erection, palm pressing against it in the best of ways, fingers curling down to cup Louis’s balls before he lets go of him completely. Louis plants his feet on the couch and tries to raise his hips up, chasing Liam’s hand, but Liam grabs a hold of his hip and pushes him back down, his other hand still firm around Louis’s wrists; Louis keens, both desperate to come and unwilling to have Liam stop his tease.

“Liam, c’mon,” he gasps, staring up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes as Liam’s hand makes its way from the curve of Louis’s hip to the crease of his thigh, thumb pressing down less than an inch away from Louis’s aching cock.

Liam lets go of Louis’s wrists without warning, kneeling back and hooking his fingers into the waistband of Louis’s sweatpants before pausing, an unspoken question hanging in the air between them. Forming words does feel too ambitious, but Louis lifts his hips up, hoping Liam gets the hint.

He does, tugging Louis's sweatpants down mid-thigh, biting his lip, eyes fixed on Louis's cotton-clad erection, straining against the restraint of his pants. He pauses again then, and Louis barely has the time to wonder if this is the tipping point, the thing that will put an end to this crazed-fueled tryst, when Liam surges down, pressing kisses up the length of Louis's cock, opening his mouth when he gets to the head, trying to suck him down despite the barrier of cotton, tongue lapping at the fabric.

Something fizzes in Louis's brain. It's the dirtiest thing he's ever seen Liam do, far dirtier than all the blowjob miming and the suggestive on-stage grinding, dirtier even than the times Liam would rub his hand between Sophia’s thighs on the dance floor, when they were both too drunk and starved for touch to care about public decency.

Louis lets out something that sounds embarrassingly like a high-pitched whine when Liam's tongue comes pressing up against the ridge of his cock, and the noise makes Liam look up, eyes glazed over with arousal.

“Come here,” Louis says, a bit taken aback at how raw his voice sounds.

Liam stretches himself over Louis, coming down easily when Louis presses a hand to the back of his neck, lips parted in invitation. They're all tongue and clumsy teeth, too eager to do things right, panting into each other's mouths between each thrust of their tongues, each bite at the other's lips.

Louis's hands go down to Liam's waist, fingers impatiently fumbling with his jeans buttons until they're all undone. It takes a lot of wiggling to get both their kits off, and the fact that Louis isn't willing to stop kissing Liam for any of it probably doesn't help, but they get naked in the end, and Louis pushes at Liam for him to kneel up, climbing on his lap even as he does it, biting off a moan when their naked cocks bump together.

“Make us come, will you?” he whispers into Liam's ear, gratified by the moan Liam lets out at the words.

Liam's hand is shaking as he closes it around both their cocks, making a game attempt at stroking them both at the same time. Liam's got big hands, but it's still not enough pressure, and the raw feeling of Liam's cock against Louis’s isn't enough to make up for it. Louis grunts, reaching down to knock Liam's hand away and take a hold of him, stroking tight and fast straightaway, because he figures Liam might like to do himself the same way Louis does.

Liam grips Louis's hips hard enough to hurt (Louis finds himself hoping it _will_ leave bruises, even though it'd be a nightmare to conceal for the next concerts). Liam’s skin is burning under Louis's palm, impossibly hard as Louis strokes him, hardly breathing from the effort of it all. 

It almost takes Louis by surprise when Liam comes, hands curling around Louis’s shoulders as Liam stifles his shout against Louis’s neck, spurting hot and slick over Louis’s fist and forearm.

For a while there’s nothing but the sound of their labored breathing, the background babble of the tv which Louis had forgotten about, and the even fainter murmur of the road. It feels like a veil has been lifted, and while Louis’s cock is still hard and leaking against Liam’s stomach, the urgency has gone, leaving Louis content to hold Liam as he comes down from his climax, breath wet against Louis’s neck.

He’s almost drifting off to sleep when Liam’s fingers gently close around his cock, his stroking slow and almost tender, the exact opposite of Louis’s mad race to climax. Louis presses his closed eyes against Liam’s shoulder, breathing low and steady, arse cheeks flexing as he tries to fuck up into Liam’s fist, his body demanding more stimulation even as his brain relishes the teasing.

He’s definitely not ready for the way Liam suddenly shifts gears, fingers tightening around his cock out of nowhere and fist pumping in fast uneven strokes, as if Liam’s patience is slipping.

“Wanna make you come, c’mon babe,” Liam whispers, breath searing hot, his tongue flicking out to lick at Louis’s ear. “Come for me, wanna feel you, wanna make you feel good, fuck, Lou, please.”

Liam keeps on talking, a string of coaxing words and breathless pleas, and Louis can only hold on, sweaty fingers slipping on Liam's back, teeth digging into Liam’s shoulder as he tries not to groan, not wanting to miss a single of Liam’s words.

He’s teetering on the edge of his climax when the passing lights catch his eye again and he raises his head, taken aback at seeing himself looking so utterly ruined, his right hand still sticky with Liam’s come curled up against Liam’s back while the other grips his upper arm hard enough for his fingertips to turn white.

He comes with what sounds a lot like a sob, his come-stained hand burying itself in Liam's hair before he can think not to, his climax all the better for the praises Liam whispers into his ear as he strokes the last of his orgasm from him until Louis slumps back down against him, his body spent and his brain filled with static.

They stay still for a long time, Louis sitting in Liam's lap, loose limbed and happy, Liam's hands warm on his back. Louis lets his eyelids fall shut, his nostrils filled with the smell of sex and sweat and wet leather, the strong beat of Liam's heart against his chest lulling him to sleep.

After what feels like hours, Liam stirs against him, pushing him away; Louis grunts his disapproval, arms half-heartedly trying to tighten their hold around him. When that fails, Louis kisses him, because that seems like a good diversion, and it does work for a while, Liam getting lost in the kiss and pushing Louis on his back, lazily grinding down against him. He sees through Louis’s brilliant plan in very little time, however, and gets up, breaking free of Louis’s iron grip around his waist and shoulders as if it was nothing, which is, quite frankly, rude.

“C’mon,” Liam says with a little smile, holding his hand out to Louis, who stays lying on the couch, arms crossed in a show of defiance, because playing it all off as a joke is safer than pausing to wonder what comes next, because the thought of this moment ending fills Louis with dread. 

Liam looks him up and down, then shrugs, his cheeks slightly flushing in that way they do when he’s about to say something and isn’t sure how it’s going to be received. “Was gonna say my bunk’d be more comfortable, but alri-”

Louis doesn’t catch the end of the sentence, already on his way to the rickety bus bathroom for a clean-up. He’s waiting for the water to get hot, impatiently wiggling his fingers under the spray, when Liam appears behind him in the tiny bathroom mirror, grimacing as he brings a hand to the back of his head.

“Did you get come in my hair?!”

“I haven't the faintest idea what you're blabbering on about,” Louis says, busying himself with a flannel and some soap.

At the end of the day, he's still not sure whether it's just the water that does it for Liam, or if it's a combination of the water and Louis, although the way Liam makes him come so hard he sees stars thirty minutes later, both of them lying naked in Liam's bunk, not a drop of water to be seen, is a pretty solid hint.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post of easy sharing :)](http://mildlymaddy.tumblr.com/post/150788178046/the-secrets-youve-seen-mildlymaddy-one)
> 
> Thanks as always to the great [Randominity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity) for the swift and enthusiastic beta. <3


End file.
